Fiery and Firey
by FieryPineapple
Summary: Fiery is doing her best to stay OUT of trouble. Firey is doing her best to land herself IN it. They've both had it pretty touch so when they meet by chance they thank their lucky stars.
1. Prologue 1

**My first story! Well, not really story. More like another story with changes. Anyway, the real book is called Lucky Star by Cathy Cassidy. Most credit goes to her! Enjoy!**

Dear Professor Pete,

I know how mad you are with me right now, and you have every right to be, but I just wanted to say, I am really, really sorry. I just didn't think that you'd get so upset about a little bit of paint, but I know better now, obviously.

I don't even know why I did it, except that I like graffiti art and I honestly thought that the wall by the gym could do with some brightening up. I guess I was wrong about that. I know now you prefer the wall to be grey, and that you really didn't like the stars and spirals and rainbows I sprayed all over it.

I admit that writing 'Toontown School House is cancelled until further notice' on the wall was not very clever, even though it seemed funny at the time. I'm sorry that some of the Toons who saw it decided to use it as an excuse to go right on home. I am also sorry that my spelling wasn't too good, and I know that was what tipped you off that I was to blame. That and the paint on my fingers.

Well, I want you to know I have learnt my lesson. Flippy (you know Flippy – my social worker) says I have messed up one time too many, and I need to wise up and make amends or else my Toontown School House career will be down the pan.

If you like, I will come in to the School House and paint the whole lot out with grey emulsion paint, so the wall is back to being plain and dull and crumbly. I would have done that already, except for being excluded and everything. Gabbie says if you see me any time soon with a bucket of paint, you'll most likely call the police, and I guess she has a point.

Anyway, I have turned over a new leaf. I am not going to tag any more walls, unless they are very neglected and really need livening up, and only then if I get permission from Toontown Headquarters or something. I am also going to work on my spelling, seriously. If you're wondering how my spelling is so good in this letter, it's because I did it on Flippy's computer and it has spell-check, as I know that stuff like that matters to you.

I know you said that my future at Toontown School House is hanging on the balance, but I want you to know that your little talk the other day has really made me think. I didn't say much, but I was taking it all in, I swear. I will be a model pupil from now on. I hope that you will give me one more chance, and I promise never to spray-paint the school again, no matter what.

Yours faithfully,

Funny Fiery Fireball


	2. Prologue 2

Dear Funny Fiery Fireball,

I must inform you that the School House has already gone to great trouble and expense to paint out the graffiti in question, so your offer to do so will not be necessary. I feel that you still fail to grasp the seriousness of your repeated acts of vandalism. If there are any further incidents of this kind, you are likely to be looking at an anti-social behaviour order, as well as a permanent exclusion.

As things stand, you remain excluded until the October break. I hope to see a marked improvement in your class work, attitude and behaviour one the new term begins.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Pete


	3. Flippy

"He's not a happy man," Flippy says, reading the letter from my teacher.

"Never has been," I shrug. "He worries too much."

Flippy shoots me a dark look. "At least they're letting you back into the School House," he murmured. "Your letter showed maturity, Fiery. You apologised, took responsibility for your actions. You realised you were wrong."

I take a bite of cream pie slice, and grin.

"Fiery?" Flippy asks, carefully. "You do know you were wrong, don't you?"

"C'mon, Flippy!" I meow. "It was hardly the crime of the century, was it? It was a joke!"

"A joke?" He echoes. "Fiery, your idea of a joke happens to be most Toon's idea of mindless vandalism!"

"Mindless? C'mon! That wall looked a whole lot better once I'd tagged it – they should have given me 1000 Jellybeans for improving the environment or something."

Flippy clenches his teeth, as if he's in pain. He peers at me with sorrowful brown eyes. "Fiery, don't you ever learn?" He asks. "It wasn't easy to persuade Professor Pete to keep the TT Police out of this. You don't need me to tell you what that would have meant… You already have a TTP record."

"Not a bad one!" I argue. "Just for tagging the Trolley!"

Flippy shakes his head. "I'm not kidding, Fiery – you can't pull any more stunts like this. Every time things start going well for you, you do something stupid and mess it all up. I'm beginning to think it's a cry for help!"

I just about choke on my cream pie slice. "A cry for help? Are you serious?"

Social workers always think there's a deep, dark reason lurking behind everything you do – some buried trauma that only a psychologist can dig out of you. Bite your nails? You obviously had a deprived childhood. Wear your fringe too long? Must be hiding something. Don't like carrots? Man, you're just about ready for the nut house.

Flippy sits back on his trendy black swivel chair, smoothing down his orange-and-red T-shirt and crossing his legs in maroon shorts. He thinks this kind of stuff makes him look cool, friendly, accessible. I think it makes him look like a sad old loser.

"It wasn't a cry for help," I mew. "It was art!"

"Hmphh," he grunts. "Well. The next time you're feeling arty, buy yourself a sketchbook."

I laugh out loud. The things I want to say just won't fit between the pages of a sketchbook – they need to be painted six feet tall, by moonlight, with your heart beating fast and your mouth dry with fear.

"Why, Fiery?" Flippy asks, giving me this full-on, sad-eyed stare. "I just don't understand why."

Flippy has this whole range of disappointed, guilt-trip looks he likes to wind me up with, but I refuse to feel bad. I paint on walls because it makes me feel good. That's as much as I'm going to admit – to anyone.

I'm not about to go digging around in the past for a bunch of deep, dark reasons for why I'm not perfect. It's just not up for discussion – all the bad memories are packed away in boxes I'll never need to open again. Start looking at all that and I'd unravel faster than a sweater with a hole in it. Seriously – it's just not happening.

Flippy shakes his head. "Out of here, Fiery," he says. "Time's up, and we're getting nowhere. At least the school have agreed to take you back after the October break. I suggest you use this time off to reflect. You need to make some changes – and fast."

I stand up, tightening my hoodie. "Thanks for your support and understanding. It means a lot." I say brightly.

I scuff my way out of the office, leaving Flippy with his head in his hands. Out in the waiting room, a female Toon – like I am – looks up from her magazine as I emerge, a pretty orange cat with bright eyes. She smiles at me, a long, lazy smile.

"He's not in a good mood," I warn her.

"Is he ever?"

She unfolds her long, orange leg and stands up slowly, her tail dangling behind her. She's wearing a red hoodie with some stars on it, and skinny jeans. She looks cool. She's the kind of Toon who could probably look cool wearing a potato sack. Her ears stand up straight above a mass of dark red hair that falls to her back. And when I say red, I mean _red._As in not ginger. But red. A dark red.

"Wish me luck," she meows, throwing me a wink as she disappears into Flippy's office.

"Good luck," I say, even though I haven't believed in luck since my dad left, back when I was seven years old, with 19 laff. I may reconsider.

I've seen all sorts of Toons in the waiting room outside Flippy's office over the years, Toons who look lost, Toons who look lonely, Toons who look rough, tough, bad, sad, mad. I've never seen one like her before, though, a Toon who looks like she could wrap the Tooniverse round her little finger, then put in in her pocket for later. I can't help wondering what her story is – how come she's washed up here, in the Toon Hall, with dodgy Flippy as her official guardian angel?

One thing's for sure – nobody ever had an appointment to see Flippy because their life was going great. Kind of tragic, really.


End file.
